Mois : décembre 2005

Few writers in any language at any time in the history of European arts and letters have so completely captured the imagination of a generation as did George Gordon, Lord Byron. A member of the second generation of English Romantic poets that also included Keats and Shelly, he was born in London in 1788 and died famously in the defense of the Greek national cause in 1824. During his lifetime Byron was a rather scandalous figure, beautiful, brutal, deeply intellectual, brilliant and eccentric (he could not stand the sight of a woman eating). He was generally regarded as a fallen angel, to be pitied and secretly admired. With his premature death Byron shared the apparently inevitable fate of a Romantic poet, but the fact that he literally sacrificed himself for those classical ideals that so infused his work (which in reality had little to do with the modern Greek state) gave his death a special resonance for European artists and thinkers, and he posthumously became a iconic figure of dark fascination, a compelling mixture of idealism and disillusionment, heroism and demonism, noble defiance and tragedy.

I’ve got memories
I keep them away from me
They won’t behave
Won’t be what I want them to be
I’ve seen it all and it’s all done
I’ve been with everyone and no one
So many squandered moments
So much wasted time
So busy chasing dreams
I left myself behind
I’ve seen it all and it’s all done
I’ve been with everyone and no one
So this dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting myself
This dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting myself
These worms, darling
They’re nibbling away at me
They go at it when I’m sleeping
Won’t let me get to my feet
I’ve seen it all and it’s all done
I’ve been with everyone and no one
So this dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting myself
This dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting –
If I could find the words to explain this feeling
I would shout them out
If I could find out all this, what’s inside me
I would shout it out
So this dying slowly
It seemed better than shooting myself
This dying slowly
It seemed better than shouting it out
I make some coffee
Pull on that new pair of pants
I can get so far in love
The feeling just falls away
I’ve seen it all and it’s all done
I’ve been with everyone and no one
I’m just tired, baby
I just need to lay down